


A Mix of Flavours Sweet on the Tongue

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, B), Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Drabble Collection, Dress Up, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Frottage, M/M, Panties, Semi-Public Sex, bottom!mihashi for once??, luv that, shenanigans in the dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of nsfw drabbles/shorts, kicking off with some fluffy tajimiha pwp!</p><p>Any warnings will be in the notes on the particular fic. Also I'll post sfw ones in another collection one of these days...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breeze (tajimiha)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NHU!!!
> 
> You are amazing and adorable and I hope you have a wonderful day and a wonderful year ahead! I'm so grateful to have you in my life, you've been such a calming, grounding presence in my bad moments and I love talking about fun stuff together or having a good yell about things. I'm rooting for you, I know you're gonna be a great teacher and change some lives. GANBAREEEEEEE!!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> (uh no warnings for this one though their age is not specified so ???)

Tajima’s totally just one combo away from winning this round when the TV, and the house around them, goes dark.

Mihashi squeaks, fumbling and dropping the controller. Tajima snickers, setting his own down on the floor. The wind slams against the house again, making the glass of the sunroom rattle and drawing another breathless noise from Mihashi.

Without looking, he finds one of Mihashi’s hands in the dark, prying his cold fingers loose. “You’re not scared, are ya?”

He hears more than sees Mihashi’s tentative nod. Followed by a vigorous head shake, and then Mihashi mashing his face against his shoulder. Tajima can’t help giggling again, leaning his cheek against the top of Mihashi’s head. And then bounding to his feet, dragging Mihashi along with him. “Let’s find some candles!” He only a _little_ bit almost crashes Mihashi into the doorframe.

Mihashi takes the lead once they’re in the kitchen, pulling Tajima over to a drawer and opening it. “I think…this one? I’ll…” He rummages around blindly. Tajima gets impatient waiting, so he leans in and smooches Mihashi’s cheek.

Like he always, always does (at least at first), Mihashi jolts. But now, at least, now, he turns to nose against Tajima with no further prompting, hums out a warm noise as their lips brush. And then it’s drawing their joined hands up over his shoulder until Mihashi wraps his arm around his neck, taking half a step closer and slipping his own around his back, and soft and warm and gentle and slow.

Tajima reaches down, grabbing the candle poking into his hip. “Wow, Ren, you’re gettin’ all—”

“Y— I’m not!” Mihashi shoves his face against the curve of his shoulder, giggling.

Tajima beams into the darkness, squeezing him a little tighter. He turns his head until his lips are near Mihashi’s ear before half-whispering, “I wanna kiss you more. Not here. You find a lighter?”

“Ah!” Mihashi straightens; there’s some frantic rustling and banging. Tajima gropes for his hand, taking the candle from him. After a second, Mihashi breathes out a triumphant noise; Tajima turns with laughter on his breath to pull them back to the living room.

They drop to the floor facing each other. Mihashi flicks the lighter a few times before it catches, a warm thumb of orange and blue blooming to life from his hand. He’s smiling down at it, his earlier nerves seemingly calmed, and Tajima can’t resist dipping in to kiss the corner of his lips.

“Yuu, be ca—!” Mihashi flings the lighter away; Tajima pays enough attention to it to make sure it’s gone out and then quickly puts it out of his mind. Much less important than Mihashi cupping his face, than the sigh of his breath and the warmth of his tongue, than the ease with which he falls back when Tajima pushes.

There’s not much room here between the coffee table and the couch, but then they don’t need much. And really, it just makes Tajima’s heart beat faster, Mihashi’s legs squashed against his own and elbows bumping into furniture and each other and the wind outside alive and gracelessly eager just like Mihashi’s fingers on his shoulder, up his side. They kiss and kiss again, a flurry of lips and bubbling laughter and the flutter of Mihashi’s lashes against his cheekbone and his breath playing over Tajima’s skin, down his neck.

He kisses between Mihashi’s brows once more, his fingers stealing down to play over Mihashi’s hip, up to press into the softness of his stomach, heel of his palm just shy of his dick. Mihashi gasps out his hunger, one leg hooking around Tajima’s hips, a clear request but Tajima still loves the sound of his voice when he murmurs out, “Yuu…can we…? I—I want…I want…”

He waits for him to finish the sentence even though he knows how it ends. And when Mihashi can’t, he kisses him again, sinking down into the warmth of his body and the ebb and burst of their movements. Hands find their way under shirts and down the back of pants, seeking skin and spark and gasped encouragement. Tajima tucks his face against Mihashi’s neck, muffling his own voice even as Mihashi releases his soft cries into the shadows wrapped around them like blankets.

Neither of them will last long, but neither of them minds. This is enough, this fleeting touch, this shared moment, enough because it is just a facet, just a particular angle of their affection. Tajima smiles, hips rolling forward faster, faster, until Mihashi clings to his shoulder and twines his other leg around Tajima’s thigh, until he can feel the uneven heave of Mihashi’s chest pressing against his own. His pulse rushes and races like the wind outside, like the beat against his lips. Fingers slip through his hair, down to his jaw, urging him up.

“Yuu… I want… Kiss…” This time, he doesn’t bother waiting, this time, he just shoves himself up enough to look down at the dim outline of Mihashi’s face. He misses and it’s sloppy and frenetic and perfect and Mihashi arches under him with a choked sound and Tajima knows the feel of the shudder running through him as well as he knows the feel of his own dick. He grabs Mihashi’s hip, driving against him with their blurred urgency until he feels Mihashi’s heels dig in, hears him cry out with aching need, feels his fingers tremble where they grip the back of his shirt. He kisses him over and over, his way of saying thank you, of telling Mihashi how gorgeous he is, even unseen, kisses him until Mihashi’s breath slows and his hand slips down to fumble at the front of Tajima’s jeans. Tajima wriggles, making space between them for the hitch of his hips and Mihashi’s fingers wrapping around his dick and he’s not so tentative now, not when his body is syrupy and his lips are petal-soft and opening on a last groan as he jerks Tajima off, as he brings him to his own ecstatic punch of breath. Tajima squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling the rush of it through his body, the fury and love distilled and spilled in his underwear and on Mihashi’s fingers and wrist.

They’re not done just touching, are never done, the feel of Mihashi’s hair and his waist and his palm on Tajima’s hip, part-caress, part wiping his hand clean on his underwear. And then all adoration, touches smoothing over familiar shapes. Comfort and the come down and Mihashi hugging him tight with a delighted little hum, rocking them happily.

The power doesn’t come back for a long while, but Tajima doesn’t mind, is more than content to rest here with Mihashi’s lips smushed against his temple and the shimmer of his laughter in his ears.


	2. Play (mizusaka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all nana's fault: https://twitter.com/filledbuns/status/717603391057174528
> 
> Technically suyamizusaka, but Suyama makes an appearance in name only. It's Suyama's birthday, and Mizutani's got a special surprise in store! Just...wouldn't hurt to give it a little try, first, right?
> 
> (aged-up, no warnings apply; cosplay and panties happen)

“What…what are these??”

Fumiki hurries to the bedroom even though he knows exactly what “these” are. “A surprise for Shouji’s birthday!”

“These are certainly…surprising…” Yuuto gives him a distressed look over his shoulder. “What are we supposed to _do_ with them?”

Fumiki snickers until it hits him Yuuto is somewhat serious. “It’s dress up! It’s fun.”

“Fun,” Yuuto repeats, picking up the seifuku doubtfully. He drops it and then turns to Fumiki with a sigh and a lightly martyred smile.

Fumiki pulls a pout. “You’re not gonna do it.”

“I didn’t say that! Just…” Yuuto turns again, leaving Fumiki to admire the flush already reddening his ears. “It didn’t have to be a surprise for _me_ , too.”

It’s not that he isn’t contrite; Fumiki shifts over, wrapping his arms around Yuuto’s chest and resting his chin on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

Yuuto leans back against him, one hand coming up to rest lightly on his arm. And the other slipping back to viciously pinch his side. “Don’t do it again.”

Fumiki yelps and then resentfully smushes his cheek against Yuuto’s. “I won’t!” He leans, tilting them towards the bed and reaching for the maid dress. “So…” He shakes it out, turning it to hold it against Yuuto’s front.

“…Should I be offended that you picked a maid outfit for me?” Yuuto asks dryly.

“I didn’t mean any…! I just thought it would look cute.” He smooches Yuuto’s cheek. “I mean, you could wear the other one if you want, I don’t really care either way… And not like we’ll be wearing them for long, anyway.”

“Shouji won’t be home for an hour or more.”

Fumiki blanches. “Well, I just thought it might take us a while to get into them?” he tries hopefully. Dropping the dress, he brings his hands to Yuuto’s hips, pulling his shirt free of his pants so he can push up underneath.

Yuuto turns in his arms, slipping his fingers under Fumiki’s waistband as he kisses him softly. “You’re an absolutely abysmal liar,” he murmurs against his lips, letting one hand drag heavily down the front of Fumiki’s jeans.

Fumiki shrugs, uncowed. “I thought we could give ‘em a test drive. Get ourselves used to them before the big reveal.” He grabs Yuuto’s butt briefly before slipping his hands around to start undoing his fly.

Nudity never loses its appeal for him, but somewhere along the line, it’s softened a little, become about _home_ and _relaxed_. Undressed, he can’t help pulling Yuuto into a soft hug, feel his warmth and small solidness. The only thing it’s missing is another lankier form pressed against his back. But that will come later. And again, and again.

Fumiki squeezes him tighter, huffing out a laugh. Yuuto makes a questioning noise; Fumiki brushes his lips over his cheekbone. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

Abruptly, he’s shoved backwards. “Don’t say cheesy crap like that! I’m already embarrassed enough!” Yuuto slaps his hands over his face, peeking through his fingers at Fumiki’s cheeky smile.

“Yeah, and it’s _adorable_.” He dips in to kiss Yuuto’s chin before stepping around him. He shoves the seifuku to the side, picking up the striped scrap of fabric underneath.

“Those…those are—”

“Cute panties!” Fumiki turns to grin at Yuuto, who’s eyeing his own pile of clothing with an unfair amount of suspicion.

Yuuto sighs. “I guess if we’re going to do this, might as well go the whole way. Are there stockings too?”

Fumiki steps into the panties and pulls them up; they’re not all that different from a pair of briefs. A pair of very soft, very short briefs. “Dang, I didn’t think of that… Maybe for next time!” He looks up with another cheeky smile.

Only to find Yuuto staring. At his crotch. And turning a vibrant shade of red.

Yuuto slaps his hands over his face again. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little hot,” he says, voice tight.

Fumiki grins broader before twirling away to show the back. “And look! They even got a cute little charm.” He wiggles, hoping the small anchor will jiggle cutely.

Whether it does or not, a familiar hand cups his ass, Yuuto kissing his shoulder blade before leaning his forehead against him. “It’s…it’s good… They’re good…”

Fumiki luxuriates in the contact for a beat before reaching back to tap his hip. “I wanna see you in yours too.”

Yuuto presses closer against him briefly and then slips away. He pushes aside the dress and picks up the satiny pair of panties underneath.

And stares at them.

Fumiki didn’t realise a person could flush down to their fingertips.

“They’re…aren’t they a little small?” He gives Fumiki an entreating look. “Fumiki, they won’t fit…”

He steps closer, tugging on one side of the panties. “Just try them, ‘kay?”

Yuuto gives them a last look before bending over to put them on.

Unabashedly, Fumiki steps back, admiring the silky white material sliding up the back of his thighs, stretching, until finally Yuuto lets them snap into place at his hips. Fumiki bites his lip, eyeing the angle where they cut across Yuuto’s ass, watching from the back as he tucks his dick into a more comfortable position.

Yuuto turns to face him but avoids his eyes. Fumiki steps in closer, cupping his cheek with one hand while letting the other skim down to toy with the lace around the waistband. “They look like a good fit to _me_ ,” he says before kissing Yuuto lightly. And then less lightly, his fingertips intruding between cloth and skin. Yuuto’s hips hitch forwards, leaving Fumiki gasping out a breath; the cloth slides so easily, tantalising over his hardening dick. Yuuto slides a hand up into his hair, breathing out silent puffs of air against his mouth and moving against him with sudden hunger.

Fumiki grabs his hips, walking backwards until his calves hit the bed. He falls back, pulling Yuuto with him to land with giggles and bumping chins and then Yuuto scrambling up to kneel straddling his hips and it’s Fumiki’s turn to slap a hand over his mouth, hissing out a curse and reaching to stroke Yuuto’s taut thigh.

Yuuto leans forward over him, plucking at something off to the side. “The dresses…”

Fumiki pulls him down unceremoniously before grabbing his ass. “Don’t care.” The fabric is slippery under his palms, already warm from Yuuto’s body; he pulls him down against himself, loving the squash and slide of their bodies. Yuuto slides his legs down beside Fumiki’s, his toes tucked underneath. He grinds against Fumiki with startling, intoxicating urgency, pushing up on one elbow to find Fumiki’s mouth with a shuddering exhale.

Fumiki’s eyes flutter shut and then crack open. Between kisses, he pants out, “I wanna… D’you wanna… We could…”

Yuuto pushes himself up, arching an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna need a little more info than that.”

Fumiki nods but pulls him back down. “I wanna…wanna blow you in them. But I was thinking maybe,” he tugs on one of Yuuto’s thighs, “sixty-nining?”

Yuuto tucks his face against his neck, almost whispering, “Yeah.”

Fumiki inhales slowly, turning to smooch the side of Yuuto’s head. He’s wondering if he’ll need to coax him more when Yuuto pushes up on his palms and then sits back on Fumiki’s hips, giving him such a sweet smile that Fumiki just wants to kiss him again.

But instead, he props himself on his elbows, scootching up the bed with a lot of intentional hip-wriggling until Yuuto slips off to the side with a light laugh. He walks on his knees to the head of the bed, curving down to kiss Fumiki quickly before swinging a leg over so he’s straddling his face.

The sight of Yuuto spread so close above him leaves Fumiki almost feeling the rush of blood to his cheeks. And to his dick, his hips twitching and then rolling with impatience.

He waits for Yuuto to lean forward but then wastes no time grabbing his hips and pulling him down to mouth at his cock. Yuuto gasps gratifyingly before dipping down to nuzzle his groin, fingers pushing under the waistband of his panties.

Fumiki lifts his hips at Yuuto’s urging so he can push the underwear down and free his dick. But Fumiki’s content to leave Yuuto’s panties (mostly) in place, is enjoying the way the fabric’s getting damp and clingy against his lips, the way they’re _not_ quite big enough, not for a hard-on. He hooks his fingers under the lacy band, pushing Yuuto back up so he can admire, watch the way his dick twitches when he take Fumiki’s own between his lips.

He tugs him back down with a moan, then sucks a wet spot at the base of his dick. Fumiki slips one hand free to gently angle Yuuto’s dick down until he can press his lips around the head. He squeezes the shaft lightly, his other hand wandering to investigate the stretched-taut waistband and Yuuto’s stomach moving quick with his breath. Fumiki moans again, gently urging him deeper, soft lips and hunger to feel Yuuto fuck against his tongue. _He’s_ already moving, hips twitching up steadily into Yuuto’s mouth. He wants to pull the panties out of the way but it’s so hard to persuade himself to stop tonguing Yuuto’s tip, tasting the faint bitterness seeping into the fabric.

In a rush, he pushes his head back into the bed and wrestles the panties out of the way. He doesn’t leave himself time to look now, just opens his mouth eagerly for Yuuto’s shaft. Yuuto pulls off his cock with a tight noise, gasping with his face pressed against Fumiki’s thigh. And god, the sounds he’s making, the shudder through his body, remind Fumiki of other things, of sliding into his ass and hearing his breath hitch so gorgeously, seeing the faces he makes, and sharing all of it that with Shouji and his gentle smile. Two mouths to kiss and fingers pushing against his own hole and arms opened wide enough for both of them. Fumiki groans, rolling his hips up to slide against Yuuto’s sweaty skin. With another strained noise, Yuuto takes his dick back in, but there’s nothing of strain in his lips, only wet squish or the careful press of shielded teeth that leaves Fumiki denting his ass with his fingertips.

Later, they’ll take their time. Later, there will be delicacy and restraint (at least a little). But now, now, Yuuto fucks into his mouth just short of too deep, Fumiki’s ass pulled tight as he curves up into Yuuto. Now, Fumiki squeezes his ass, fingertips teasing near his hole. Now their panted breaths and small sounds mingle in the warm air of the bedroom, a chain reaction that hits him low in the stomach, that exquisite feeling of pressure building, building, and then released so suddenly he cries out around the dick in his mouth. And then moans at the bitterness smearing his tongue, at the beautiful way Yuuto cries out and arches above him, at the silky fabric pressed against his nose, the delicious shiver through Yuuto’s muscles.

Fumiki loosens his lips but lets Yuuto pull out when he’s ready. He could almost burst, he wants to come so bad, but he doesn’t know if he could speak.

Yuuto nuzzles against his thigh, his hair damp and his breath still ragged. And then, with a soft noise, he takes Fumiki back in.

Fumiki doesn’t bother trying to hold back, fucks his mouth with tight, shallow thrusts. He twists one hand in Yuuto’s panties, the other skimming down to stroke his side, his touch heavy, random. And then with a strangled noise, he’s blowing his load in Yuuto’s mouth and clinging to him like he was in danger of falling.

Yuuto lets the aftershocks roll through him before pulling off his dick and rising on his knees. Shakily, he turns around and wriggles down the bed until he’s pressed against Fumiki’s side. With a contented sigh, Fumiki wedges an arm around him.

There’s a part of him that’s still hungry, sparking sleepily when he reaches down to feel Yuuto’s bare ass and the panties still cutting across it. But it just makes it all the more perfect. Fumiki smiles, tilting his head to smooch Yuuto’s forehead.

“You think he’ll like it?” he asks, squeezing Yuuto lightly.

“I think we can make a pretty convincing argument.”


	3. Firsts (suyanai)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suyanai first time beej party because bridges drew a Thing and Revenge had to be taken B)
> 
> no warnings; they're 18 ✌️✌️✌️

He’s grateful most of his firsts are with Suyama.

Not Hanai’s first time being confessed to, but his first time feeling his heart leap in response. His first time holding hands like it meant something. Not his first kiss either, not at eighteen, but his first that made him want more. And more and more, even if he’d still been too shy to take them.

Suyama’s shy too, tentative and halting here in a way that Hanai’s not used to from him. But fighting through that, red out to his ears, to swing onto Hanai’s lap and cup his face and kiss him until Hanai’s paralysis crumbles. But gentle, gentle still, not crashing through his boundaries but pressing against them lightly, taking his hand and feeling out together what the shape of their relationship is.

Also his first time having his mother walk in on him while he’s shirtless and snuggling with his head on another boy’s chest. Not every first is one he particularly wants to remember, but then he supposes it could’ve been worse.

This, he wants to remember, even though he can barely meet Suyama’s eyes. Hanai just stares straight ahead while he sits on the edge of his bed, gripping the blanket tightly.

“You don’t have to…”

Suyama grabs his hand, squeezing too hard. “I wanna try!”

Hanai finally meets his eyes. He’s beginning to love that determined look. Good things tend to happen when Suyama looks at him like that.

Suyama sighs out a laugh. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? _You_ should be sweet-talking _me_ into this.”

Hanai pulls a face, wriggling his cramped fingers. “Does _this_ constitute sweet-talking?”

“Shoot, sorry…” Suyama relaxes his hold, then pulls Hanai’s hand into his lap, tracing the lines of his palm thoughtfully.

Hanai kicks his feet. “I _do_ want to. To let you.” He can feel heat climbing his neck. “I just…” He scrubs his free hand over his face with a guttural noise. “I don’t even know, I…”

A thumb presses firmly into the heel of his palm, the pad of his own thumb. Hanai looks over again, examining the flush spread along Suyama’s cheekbones, the small jittery smile curving his lips.

_You’re nervous too. I’m not alone, and neither are you._

He exhales, leaning over to nuzzle against Suyama’s shoulder. But only for a second before that squirmy, wonderful feeling in his stomach pushes him closer, kissing just below Suyama’s jaw. Soft kisses down his throat, less soft on the way back up, and Suyama’s grip tightening and his breath shuddering out deliciously.

This, at least, is familiar territory now. Hands and lips skimming over skin, falling back on the bed and Suyama’s palm pressing up the small of his back, up under his t-shirt, and suddenly Hanai doesn’t want to be outdone. He tugs Suyama’s thigh up, pushing his own between his legs until he can feel his hard-on, until Suyama pulls back from his lips with a heavy exhale. Hanai chases him to nudge against his cheek, his hand sliding up the curve of Suyama’s ass to the waistband of his jeans.

Nudity isn’t new, being naked together just feels comfortable. An even playing field, not that he ever feels uneven with Suyama. Maybe some of it is just that it tips him past his hesitation, turns _are we gonna?_ into _we’re doing this_. Pulls him forward with the sight of a body singular, particular, gorgeous.

Makes it so that when Suyama slips back to stand at the side of the bed, Hanai is mostly just excited.

Hanai scooches over to the side of the bed, not leaving himself time to think. His toes barely reach the floor before Suyama is there, kneeling between his legs and meeting his eyes. There’s nervousness there, arousal too, and again, that determination that sends a shiver down Hanai’s spine and makes his dick twitch.

Hanai reaches out, stroking the soft fuzz of Suyama’s head, back to brush fingers down to his nape, curl around his neck briefly. _Together._ Suyama covers his hand with his own and smiles, beams up at him. And then insistently pushes Hanai’s hand back up his scalp, splaying his own palms firmly on Hanai’s inner thighs. There’s no time for him to feel embarrassed about being spread out on view like this before Suyama takes his dick in his mouth.

He expected it to feel good. He didn’t expect the heavy punch of air from his lungs, the scrambling need to get a grip on the blanket under him, the tension from his toes up through his calves, his quads, all the way up to his stomach. And he didn’t expect Suyama to look so fucking beautiful doing it, flushed and lashes low and the lines of collarbone, shoulders, chest on display, just waiting for his adoring touch.

Hanai gasps again, stroking his thumb back from Suyama’s hairline once more before dropping to the curve of his shoulder. Steady, steady, and the feel of Suyama’s tongue pressing against his skin and the uneven sound of his breath and Hanai’s thighs twitch in but are pressed back.

His throat is dry, his face hot, his arm shaky support so he gives up and curls forward over Suyama. _Together_.

Suyama pulls back with a lewd pop, pressing his cheek to the inside of Hanai’s arm. He pants a couple breaths, then asks, “…it okay?”

Hanai just garbles out a questioning noise at first. He swallows hard, blinking down at Suyama, then responds, “It’s okay. I mean, it’s great! Ah…” He slaps a hand across his face, the other cupping Suyama’s cheek.

Who is just laughing at him, offensively endearing. “Not like you have any basis for comparison.”

Hanai pulls a face. “Yeah, well, take advantage of that while you can.”

Suyama slides his arms up around his waist, leaning into him with a pleasant smile. “I have no intention of being lazy. Quite the opposite.” His fingertips trace the small of Hanai’s back, dip down to graze the top of his ass.

Hanai’s blush comes back full-force, his fingers tensing against Suyama’s cheek.

Some firsts are definite, have a before and after. Some are more gradual. Fingers pressing through cloth, teasing, curious, but slipping away before any boundaries are crossed. The feel of Suyama grinding against his ass while he palms his dick, how much he’d enjoyed their bodies fit so close together like that and Suyama’s breath teasing on his nape. Ideas that are easier to feel out on his own in the dark.

But maybe they can step forward into a definite _after_ with this, as well.

He _likes_ having firsts with Suyama.

Hanai curls forward, urging Suyama back enough that they can kiss. His mouth is wet, and all Hanai can think of is where it’s been and will likely be again soon and it sends a shiver of embarrassed pleasure down his spine. It’s awkward from this cramped position, but he tilts his hips back hopefully. Suyama groans into his mouth, fingers scraping up the slope of his ass. Hanai’s hand slips down his chest and stomach, down until he feel velvet-soft skin against his knuckles.

He strokes his dick a few times, light, more a reassurance for himself, a promise, than anything else. Hanai inhales slowly, sitting back.

He’s braced for the sensation, he thinks, but he still gasps again. Suyama hums a light amused noise that leaves Hanai squirming, feet lifting off the floor. Abruptly, palms push against the back of his thighs, not quite pushing him over but holding him in this ungainly position.

Hanai leans back on his palms, eyes fluttering shut, his body caught in a tense anticipation. It’s slowly, slowly satisfied, each time Suyama slides down his shaft, his right hand sliding closer and closer to Hanai’s ass. He finds himself holding his breath, though he can’t take his eyes off Suyama’s serene face.

Fingers brush the cleft of his ass. Hanai’s legs twitch up, his breath slipping out. Suyama’s eyes flick open, find his as he rubs there, slow and steady pressure and his head held still. Only the uncontained shift of Hanai’s hips pushing his dick into his mouth. Hanai desperately wants to cover his face, avoid his gaze, but he can’t quite seem to make his arms work so he just shuts his eyes with a groan.

Like this, he’s even more conscious of the finger pushing in, in to rub at his hole and then shy away. Back again, a gentle pressure that leaves him squirming incoherently, not sure how to communicate _more_ , _yes_. He opens his eyes, licking his lips and forcing himself to meet Suyama’s gaze. Which is surprisingly serious.

Suyama pulls back, swallowing visibly and holding his eyes. “You… D’you want me to?”

Hanai nods hurriedly, hoping he won’t have to actually _say_ anything. But Suyama’s got that determined look again. Hanai breathes out a helpless noise, curling forward. The shift in his weight pushes Suyama’s finger in a little, but he draws it back quickly. “I want you to. Want you to,” he’s burning up with embarrassment and arousal, “finger me.”

Suyama inhales slowly, tipping his head back to press his face into Hanai’s shoulder, then nods slightly. He bumps his way under his chest until Hanai’s arched over him, and he’s ready for one sensation but first there’s the sound of Suyama spitting.

“Uh…I’m supposed to use…proper…stuff, but…”

“It’s okay.” Hanai strokes his back. “It’s fine, I’ll tell you if it’s not.”

Suyama nods again, his head bumping against Hanai’s stomach, then pushes his right leg higher. Hanai feels off balance but it’s good, it’s good when he can trust his weight to Suyama, when he can just give himself over entirely.

All in a rush, there’s a mouth on his dick again and a finger pushing wetly into his cleft and _in_ , _in_ , with a steady focus that almost more than anything else leaves him gasping out a needy noise. Suyama’s finger just barely stretches him open, but it’s sending heat shivering down his spine and Suyama sucking him in deeper now and making another low noise around his dick and Hanai’s toes spread tensely, bobbing in the air with each slick slide of Suyama’s lips, with every increment of penetration. Spit isn’t quite enough but he’s already past caring.

Besides, firsts lead to seconds. And thirds. And maybe somewhere along the line, gathering the courage to make awkward drugstore purchases.

But now, now, Suyama’s finger deep enough to make him pant and tremble, and then brushing something, something that leaves his mind a white-hot mess, especially when he rubs over it again, _again_ , and Hanai’s stomach crunches tight and he grits his teeth against the noise fighting out of him, the noises _still_ coming and Suyama gasping startled breaths through his nose, his free arm slipping up, around Hanai, holding him close as his orgasm swells and ebbs.

He's grateful for the firsts, and for the return to easier territory too, the comfort of hands and kisses and low voices. And each new first they conquer just makes him eager for the next. Eager to see what Suyama will look like when he returns the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lacklustre end but it is past my bedtime orz


	4. Hold (abemih)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warn for breathplay and semi-public sex.
> 
> This was written for abemih shipweek 2016's Free Day. shockingly, I chose to write self- (and bro-)indulgent smut. B)
> 
> Ren can’t stop thinking about the back corner of the locker room and all the things Takaya could do to him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im Gomen I haven't been posting much lately--the muse isn't talking to me lately but the chronic pain sure is. but today I'll post some stuff that got posted elsewhere but never made it here

Ren thinks about the back corner of the locker room a lot.

The room is big, probably used to be the university’s only one. More than enough room for the entire baseball team. And at some point, the fluorescent light over that back row of lockers had burnt out, and just…never been replaced. The area became sort of a storage area, a couple busted chairs and bleachers from somewhere tucked into the space. Hardly romantic.

But still it hovers in his consciousness.

He isn’t sure quite when the thought first occurred to him. Maybe it was spurred by the small thrill of stealing kisses when their teammates weren’t looking (though Takaya says many of them likely already guess that their relationship goes beyond highschool friends). Maybe some porn he’d seen. Maybe nothing. But on those occasions when he’s alone with his thoughts and his hand down his shorts, Ren finds himself thinking about that corner a _lot_.

It takes him a long time to work up the courage to ask about it, though.

But he’s glad he did.

Ren’s heart thumps against his ribs and he’s quite certain _everyone_ can tell what they’re planning, but Takaya seems calm as ever. Making some excuse, he sits them down and takes Ren through some hand and forearm stretches. With the result that they’re still sitting on the bench when the last few stragglers are collecting their gear and heading out. Ren picks at a rough spot on the bench, eyes darting around the room.

Takaya squeezes his hand, drawing his attention back to his face. “We can still go home. If you’re too nervous, we don’t have to do this.”

Ren squeezes him back, pulling their joined hands onto his thigh. “I want to! I’m not…I’m not too scared!” A little bolder, he leans closer. “Maybe it’s…part of what I like?”

Takaya’s eyes catch his, focused and curious. “I guess that would make sense.” He glances behind himself, taking in their empty end of the locker room, then stands quickly. “Well?”

Ren presses his lips together, adrenaline welling in his chest. “Yeah.”

They grab their bags and whisk around the corner and out of sight.

Ren’s worrying how to start things but Takaya just drops his bag and crowds him up against the wall, lips finding his like a wave rolling in. Ren lets himself be carried on that swell; he’s long past wanting Takaya to lead him, but just the same, there’s safety in these arms, in these forceful kisses and the press of his thicker body. Not a wave then, but a rock that he stands in the lee of, a space where he can take his own steps.

With an urgent noise, Ren wraps his arms around Takaya’s neck.

Takaya breaks the kiss, pressing a quick smooch to his upper lip. His voice is low and already with a slight but intoxicating breathlessness. “If we’re gonna do this, you _have_ to keep quiet.”

Eyes closed, Ren nods. One hand slips down to hook in the collar of Takaya’s undershirt, pushing him back so he can see his eyes. “But… So Takaya could…keep me quiet?”

They’ve done things like that before. Fingers covering his mouth, a hand splayed on his chest and slipping higher, higher, until it brought with it a new euphoria and a feeling of _surrender_ that sets Ren’s blood pumping even now.

Takaya scans his eyes for a second before nodding. Impatiently, he pushes in for another kiss. “You have to tell me if you need me to stop.”

Ren lets his hand slip down Takaya’s chest, around his broad back. “I…I will.” He presses his fingers to Takaya’s back in their sign, turning into a long drag down to squeeze Takaya’s butt.

Exhaling the ghost of a groan, Takaya grabs his hip with one hand, bringing the other to smooth over his cheek. Down, down to curve against his neck, thumb pressing up under his jaw. Ren tries to keep his breath steady but it falters, hitches when Takaya grabs his thigh, urging his leg up. Ren breaks another kiss, biting his lips hard against the moan that rises in him.

Takaya huffs laughter against his cheek. “You sure you can do this?” He can’t quite form an answer, so Ren stubbornly takes his lips again, squeezing his leg around Takaya’s hips.

The hand on his neck shifts until Takaya’s palm presses lightly against his throat. His growing hard-on presses against Ren’s hip, Takaya’s body a perfect mixture of firmness and give against his own.

At the other end of the room, the door bangs open.

They both tense, but the leading group of the next team are boisterously discussing a professional match. Ren kisses Takaya again, rocking his hips against him, not that it seems Takaya needs persuading.

He tips his head down, whispering, “Undo your pants.”

Ren hurries to comply, as much because he can’t wait to get his hand back on Takaya’s ass. Takaya hoists his leg up more securely and then gets his hand down between them, squeezing Ren’s dick with a heavy exhale. His fingers twitch, pressing against Ren’s neck, then shift to wrap more firmly on his throat.

Ren lets his eyes shut, one arm curling under Takaya’s shoulder. He feels like he’s been part-hard all practice, and now, now, with Takaya’s heavy touch and his body bearing him back against the wall, now his body responds eagerly. Even with the sound of more young men talking and banging lockers open so close by.

Takaya strokes him quickly, his eyes heavy-lidded but intent on Ren’s face in a way that still, still leaves him burning. He cups Takaya’s cheek, as if shielding that expression from a rude wind, except that then Takaya closes his eyes in a smile, turning until he can kiss the ball of Ren’s thumb. Ren gasps a stuttered breath past the constriction of his throat, sliding his hand to the back of Takaya’s head to urge him in for another kiss. Takaya’s grip on his throat slackens a little, and Ren releases breath through his nose, feels like it comes from every fiber of his being, dissipating in the space between him.

Before he can inhale, air pushes in through his open mouth. Ren can’t help a small noise, hand clenching against the back of Takaya’s head and then slipping up to bury in his hair. His hips twitch erratically into Takaya’s touch, his whole body shivery with arousal and full up with Takaya’s breath. But he waits, he waits, even though his chest aches with it, he waits until Takaya inhales, until his ribs expand in the circle of Ren’s arm, until it is not just a release but a gift shared. And back again, pushing into him, a new intrusion that he welcomes hungrily.

Takaya breaks off, panting, drawing back until they can looks at each other again. Ren pulls urgently on him, but Takaya resists with a feral grin that leaves him holding his breath against a cry. Already, he thrusts into Takaya’s hand, unbalanced and shaky but he can’t help himself. Takaya’s gaze drops to his mouth before returning to his eyes, sending irresistible heat through his insides. Ren pulls again.

“Taka…” Barely a whisper, his eyes squeezed shut. “Taka…please…”

Takaya kisses him, hard and close-mouthed and not what he wants but delicious anyway and his fist tightening suddenly at the base of Ren’s dick and leaving him arching against the wall. Takaya’s lips slip until they’re close to Ren’s ear.

“Not yet.”

Abruptly, both of Takaya’s hands are on his hips, pushing him against the wall and making him drop both feet to the floor, and then, oh, then, he kisses Ren again, breathing out. Every inch of Ren’s body is tensed except for his chest, holding on tight against the euphoria that could so easily have washed him away. He clutches at Takaya’s jersey with both hands, unable to stop himself from inhaling richer air through his nose.

Takaya pulls back, mouth stretching in an amused line for a beat before he lays two fingers over Ren’s lips. Ren’s eyes widen, the muscles of his ass and legs tensing in a small, slow roll. Takaya holds his eyes as he sinks into a crouch, fingers still firmly in place. He pushes Ren’s undershirt up, his lips blooming warm and wet on his stomach. So close, so very close, and Ren wants to ask, plead for him to use his tongue and lips and the fire in each kiss to bring him to release, but he can’t, he can’t. Takaya kisses his way up under his ribs, teeth scraping lightly and leaving Ren with his eyes slipping shut. His body is all urgency, involuntary muscle movements trying desperately to release breath but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t…

Ren taps Takaya’s shoulder rapidly, then presses his hand there in a familiar sign.

Immediately, Takaya’s fingers are gone, hand instead curled tenderly on the side of Ren’s neck.

He wedges the other around Ren’s waist, hugging him tight as his chest heaves. His whisper is further muffled against Ren’s skin, barely audible over the racket but ringing through Ren’s head like the rush of oxygen.

“That’s good, that’s right, you were _so_ good, Ren…”

Anything else is buried against Ren’s stomach, but it’s enough, enough, such a simple thing, because he knows how much Takaya means it.

Takaya hops to his feet, then, cupping Ren’s face with both hands. “D’you want to stop?”

Despite the hands on him, Ren shakes his head vigorously before reaching out to kiss Takaya’s cheek. “I want to keep going.” His hips twitch, his dick brushing against the front of Takaya’s pants; even if it’s not exactly comfortable, Ren can’t resist doing it again. “I…I want… Takaya, please…” He tips his head down, fumbling with Takaya’s fly.

Takaya kisses his temple with a soft huff of air. He gropes Ren’s dick impatiently, then grabs at his hip, the heel of his thumb pressing against the bared skin. “Ren… Tell me what you want.”

A shiver runs down his body, skin blooming in a flush. “I want…Takaya in me, _all_ the way in me, I want…” He kisses Takaya’s jaw, lost for a moment in the images in his head, the tight anticipation in his gut. “Want… Taka, please…fucking me against…against here… I want…” His face screws up with the embarrassment of it; it’s still so hard to talk about these things, ask for these things, but intoxicating too, when he can feel the tense excitement singing through Takaya’s muscles. “I want…Taka to t-turn me around and fuck me and keep…and keep putting y-your hands on my neck… I want…”

Takaya nudges against his face, kissing him sweetly and whispering against his lips, “You’re doing so well.” He drags his hand back to grab Ren’s ass. “I love hearing you tell me, I love it.”

Ren inhales shakily, arching. “Taka, please… I want…now…”

Takaya snorts out a laugh. “So impatient.” He pushes Ren’s pants down slowly, taking his time with his hands cupping his ass. Abruptly, he steps away, crouching down to rummage in a pocket of his bag. Ren slouches against the wall, wanting to sink down to the floor but forcing himself to stay upright.

Quickly, Takaya’s back in front of him, holding a familiar bottle. He kisses Ren softly, the pop of the lid seeming so loud and Ren can’t believe that no one hears, no one notices, and then all his attention is taken over by the fingers slipping between his cheeks. Takaya dips two fingers in, still so steady even as he impatiently works them into Ren’s hole. His head drops back against the wall, mouth open wide to keep his heavy breaths quiet. Takaya eagerly dips in to kiss his neck, a flurry of gentle touches and his fingers in up to the knuckle now. Ren wraps his fingers around Takaya’s dick, his strokes random but he needs, _needs_ to feel Takaya, needs to feel the hitch in his movements and feel _him_ fighting to stay silent too.

Takaya raises his head, watching Ren as he pulls his fingers almost all the way out before pushing three back in. It’s so hard to keep his eyes open, but he loves this, loves Takaya’s expression, loves watching him back as he jerks him off.

But there’s only so long self-control can hold out and then Ren’s clutching Takaya close and whispering urgently, “Now, Taka, _please_ …”

Takaya kisses him once more, close-mouthed and hard and yet somehow sweet, before manhandling him around to face the wall. Ren pushes up on his toes, waiting what feels like forever before he feels Takaya’s dick against his ass.

Takaya wraps him in a one-armed hug, and again Ren’s overtaken by that feeling of safety that only gets stronger as Takaya’s arm moves higher. As he eases his way inside, his fingers close on Ren’s throat, light, so light, but enough, enough. Takaya thrusts slow, shallow, letting Ren adjust as he strokes his thumb under his jaw. As he often is, Ren’s awed by his self-control; he’s pretty sure if their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from fucking Takaya as hard as he could.

Ren bites his lips together against a needy whine, instead lets himself roll his hips back, make his demand that way. But Takaya seems to take no notice, just kisses his nape, his movements so smooth that they’re almost silent. That just tunes Ren’s ears to every little slick sound, to the faint huff of Takaya’s breath and the rustle of their clothes. He can hear the other team talking still but he can’t process the words at all.

Ren grabs Takaya’s hip, tilting his head back just to press his cheek against him for a beat. “Taka…” He twists his fingers in Takaya’s pants, pulling urgently. “Takaya…harder. I want…harder. I want you to make me come.” He wants to hide his face, he wants—

Takaya’s hand clamps over his mouth just as he slides home. Hard.

Ren arches, sudden dizzying tightness in his chest and his head as he holds in all noise. Their skin slaps together, and surely, surely someone _must_ hear but no they’re all laughing over some joke. Ren pushes back into each thrust as much as he can when he’s already stretched so tight, his calves starting to shake a little. Takaya feels so good and too much and angling the roll of his hips just right and Ren feels like if he stopped holding his breath, he would fly apart. He can feel Takaya’s weight against his back, feel how he could so easily crush him against the wall until he truly couldn’t breathe, but instead he’s an anchor.

Takaya grabs his throat again, and Ren knows, he knows somehow that it means he’s going to let him come soon. He exhales quickly and then takes in a last breath. With an approving hum, Takaya tightens his grip and wraps a still-slick hand around Ren’s dick, stroking him with rough short strokes. He kisses behind Ren’s ear, his voice hard to hear over the blood rushing in his ears.

“Come for me. Now. Come, and don’t make a sound.”

He wants to nod but he can’t even manage that much, just trembles under Takaya’s hands, his throat tight but his mouth open. He’s full, he’s so full, and now, now, he’s allowed to release, to let Takaya’s wet fingers open him up again. Ren buries his hand in Takaya’s hair, pulling him close as his body pulses, his mind fizzy-white-hot with it and still, Takaya burying himself deep inside him, Takaya’s fingers digging in, Takaya stroking his dick tenderly through it, Takaya murmuring, “Good,” into his shoulder again and again.

It doesn’t take Takaya much longer, which is lucky since Ren feels like he’s the only thing holding him up now. Takaya comes with a held breath of his own, his arms tight around Ren’s chest and his lips smushed against his skin. Ren shuts his eyes at the sensations of it, at the feel of Takaya’s body slowing until he’s just leaning against him, mouth now open on a silent pant.

Ren turns in his arms, slipping his arms around Takaya’s waist. They press sweaty foreheads together, just smiling and catching their breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Y-you?”

Takaya kisses him, soft in a way that says home and bed. “I’m fine.” He strokes up Ren’s back. “If you feel off in any way, tell me, okay?”

Ren nods, burying his face in Takaya’s shoulder gratefully.

Takaya tugs Ren’s pants up a little way. “We better clean up. Guess we’ll have to wait for them to clear out, anyway…”

Ren nuzzles against him, squeezing him tighter. “Takaya…let’s not move just yet.”


End file.
